Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“Cough, then I’ll just ask directly, have you two ever heard of 【Named One】?”

Nora froze for a moment, as if recalling something, frowning as she sank into thought.

Chloe, however, answered bluntly: 〖I’ve heard of it.〗

〖You still remember the Mechanical Sanctum, right?〗

Of course he remembered. The priest who killed him had likely been from the Mechanical Sanctum, using their prayers to summon the Machine Soul, and the steam rifles in the hands of the Banshees were also creations of the Mechanical Sanctum.

Hughes’s impression of this Church was nothing but all sorts of bizarre black technology. At first glance, it all seemed somewhat logical, but the more he thought about it, the more it felt wrong.

For example, the steam rifle actually used mercury vapor, and the Mechanical Priest’s steel prosthetics looked nothing like they were powered by servomotors.

〖The predecessor of the Mechanical Sanctum was the Mechanics Society. Back then, we were still a sect of the Moths Chasing Fire under the Candlelight Emblem, and we had quite a friendly relationship with them, so we knew some secrets.〗

〖For instance… Great Sage Bruno claimed himself to be a 【Named One】.〗

〖But as for what exactly a 【Named One】 is, we never learned more.〗

Hughes turned his head to look at Nora. “Do you recall anything?”

“I recall it, but I don’t know the details.” Nora shook the vase from side to side. “This matter must have been recorded in the Sanctum.”

“Oh, you’re so sure? You’ve seen it before?”

“【Burier】 would bury a portion of harmful knowledge. That was our way of resisting pollution. I suspect part of the related knowledge has already been buried by me — but the Silent Sanctum must have a backup.”

After speaking, she fixed her gaze on Hughes. “The world may forget, but the Bone-White Raven never will.”

Hughes nodded. He had heard many similar sayings before. In the images Nora had once shown him, he had also seen it — wind and snow bury the past, the Sanctum never forgets. That phrase was carved onto the chapel itself.

“The Silent Sanctum’s name a thousand years ago was the Sanctum of Forgetting. We knew many secrets, but unlike the Candlelight Emblem, we would not collect them, but bury them, forget them.” Nora glanced at Chloe.

〖I’ll say it again, I’m not from the Candlelight Emblem. And what use is it whether you bury or not? The White Raven Principality has already perished, and the Bone-White Ravens are nothing but bare skeletons now.〗

Bang!

Nora, after all, was an Extraordinary being, with precise control over her muscles. She suddenly exerted force with her neck, smashing the vase straight down into the seam of Chloe’s Diary.

〖Eek!!!〗 Chloe let out a wail, the diary’s pages snapping taut before drooping softly again.

“All right, enough fooling around. Nini, quickly hang the two of them up, one on the east side, one on the west. Tata, you and Richard should hurry back too.”

Seeing his office about to descend into chaos again, Hughes decisively shooed everyone out. Nini carried off both the diary and the vase, humming a tune as she went. Tata and Richard left quietly, chatting in low voices.

Hughes walked to the door, bolted it several times, then returned to his chair.

He still had one matter to confirm.

Hughes’s face quickly went stiff and expressionless, his head drooping low as he returned.

Moments later, the Hughes with a gaping hole in his chest opened his eyes.

“Hm?”

The instant he opened his eyes, Hughes sensed something wrong. Why was it foggy here?

He was still on the ice-strewn sea, his lower body frozen in ice. He did not know which sea it was, but by the looks of it, it should be in the Northlands.

After all, only the Northlands had such seas filled with floating ice.

The fog was dense, truly “unable to see one’s hand before one’s face.” Coupled with the white floes nearby, Hughes was practically blind.

Taking several deep breaths, fog streamed into his lungs through both throat and chest cavity. Hughes nodded in satisfaction.

He had actually liked the smell of fog since childhood. Whenever smoggy weather came, he would rush outside, darting about, enjoying the thrill of seeing nothing and exploring the unknown.

“Not bad at all. I’d only ever heard of sea fog before, but this is my first time seeing it.”

Sea fog was a common enough phenomenon, but since arriving at Castel, he had not seen it before. Hughes studied it with curiosity for a while, then paid it no more mind, tugging on the threads to draw others into the link.

In reality he had to be cautious, not testing recklessly. But now, having switched to a different shell, probing for information should not bring any real trouble.

He reached out, grasped several threads, and gave a tug—

At that moment, several people entered the link. Those threads reaching directly into the soul allowed them to cross distance and communicate.

That was how it should have been.

But what came back through his hand was not the usual light feeling, but something sluggish and stuck, as if snagged on something. Hughes widened his eyes, following the threads with his gaze, only to see them vanish into the fog.

“Strange, why can’t I pull them into the link?”

A vague unease rose in his heart. He tried again several times, but it was useless — the threads refused to budge.

Hughes kept tugging and tugging, but the threads extending into the fog felt as if they were jammed in place, not moving at all.

Just as he was about to give up, the threads in his hand suddenly trembled.

As if someone in the fog were tugging at the other end.

Northlands, Grizzly Town.

The townsfolk had originally been celebrating their expulsion of the Winter Wolves, but before long, another group arrived in town.

They claimed to be Resistance Army soldiers sent to deal with the Winter Wolves, and by their appearance, they truly were refugees from the White Raven Principality.

The townsfolk had long harbored deep resentment toward soldiers. Whether it was the Winter Wolves knights under the lords, or these Resistance Army troops from the Northlands, to them, there was no difference — both only brought trouble.

So, the townsfolk quickly shut their doors.

But… this group seemed somewhat different. They neither plundered food nor stole savings. Instead, they helped the townsfolk clean up the Winter Wolves’ barracks — which had originally been the town’s market.

Now, restored to its original function, the Resistance soldiers laid out various goods on the cleared space, saying they wished to trade with the townsfolk.

The goods were varied: animal pelts, dried salted meats, and more. Amusingly, while the Northlands had plenty of forests and game, all of it was the lords’ private property, and freemen were strictly forbidden from hunting.

Even if someone risked poaching, it was only small-scale at best, so pelts still fetched a decent price here.

Yet the townsfolk all clutched their purses tightly. None dared buy a thing, nor even step outside.

Who knew if this was a Resistance Army trap? Discover who had money, then rob them outright. These townsfolk were just honest people — and honest people were always bullied.

The next day, with no gains, the Resistance Army departed in disappointment.

But before the townsfolk could even breathe a sigh of relief, a Winter Wolves Guard unit kicked open the town’s gate.